


Even From Behind This Mask, I Love You

by MythologyPastry



Category: How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000), How the Grinch Stole Christmas! - Dr. Seuss
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Feelings, Flirting, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Idiots in Love, Love, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythologyPastry/pseuds/MythologyPastry
Summary: Martha May Whovier loves Halloween, even if it's not Christmas.
Relationships: The Grinch/Martha May Whovier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Even From Behind This Mask, I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make a halloween fic, and I had very little inspiration, so just take this.

Martha fixes the witch's hat on top her head before swiping a lovely purple onto her lips. Halloween is no Christmas, but that's no excuse to not be festive. Her favorite outfits are always the witches, and this year is no different. She has no theme besides Martha but witchy, and that suits her just fine. Her dress is black and reaches her knees, with lovely scraps of lace lined asymmetrically around the hem. It took a lot of work, but she thinks it's paid off.

Kelly Whoby, her favorite neighbor, stands besides her at the mirror. She's putting her hair into a bun, lips the color of blood. The vampire look is gorgeous in its inspiration, rigid like a military uniform, and she looks like she could slaughter a whole army in some cheesy movie. Martha loves it, but she also knows that she could do it better. She just doesn't say it, is all.

But she does point out the time when the sky is a dusty pink and the light dim. "Kelly, I think we ought to leave."

Kelly huffs and shakes her hand in front of her like a flyswat. "You head, and I'll meet up with you."

Martha rolls her eyes before grabbing her sack. "See you in the square."

"Bye!"

* * *

The town center shakes with excitement, children collecting candy from booths and houses like worker bees collecting honey. Kelly does show up, eventually, but Martha lets her get pulled away by a rather enthusiastic cowgirl. The two of them drift into the crowd, that sea of feverish anachronism which hums with pure joy, and Martha knows that Kelly won't be coming back to see her tonight. Lights cover the square, many of them strung on awnings and roofs, but the prettiest come from the mouth of lovingly carved pumpkins. Martha can see hers, clear as day. It's face is slightly lopsided, but it is devious, a dangerous grin marked by pointy teeth.

Martha smiles, plopping some white chocolate into her mouth. She always loved a good excuse to get creative, and her pumpkin was the perfect fit for that.

She stays for a few hours and watches a few costume contests. The last is her category, women's, and she preens as the judges admire her handiwork. Ultimately, she doesn't win. Another who, one dressed up as ghostly bride, wins by only a few points. Martha claps for her, of course, but is largely disinterested by the time they give out prizes, so she moves on towards a cakewalk. On the fifth round, she wins, and a man escorts her over to the cakes they have for selection. Most of the chocolate ones are already gone, but there's a vanilla cake that catches her eye.

It has a buttercream Mount Crumpit as its design, and Martha can't help but pick it up.

"You want that one?" The man asks, clearly confused with her choice, and she laughs.

"It looks sort of like a painting," she says proudly, holding it up as if she frosted the damn thing herself. He gives it one last look over and nods in begrudging agreement. Pleased with her choice, Martha leaves for home, extra careful as to not drop her prize.

But before she can make it all the way home, she bumps into a man in one of her favorite shortcut alleys. He grumbles, and she looks over the cake, annoyed to see that the edges have smudged in the plastic.

Then she looks up, and the masked man is just staring straight at her. "Excuse me," she says tiredly and goes to walk around him, but he clears his throat, catching her full attention once more.

"Happy Halloween." His voice is soft but welcoming, no sign of his previous frustration with her. "Do you always walk into men this time of year?"

She laughs, letting herself smile. "Happy Halloween, and no, I don't."

"You could have fooled me. Where did you get the cake?"

"Oh, just a cakewalk." She shuffles on her feet. "I thought it looked nice."

"It's just Mount Crumpit."

"I happen to know someone on Mount Crumpit," she admits. "I just haven't seen him in a long time."

There's a period of silence, and Martha bites her lip. Anyone worth their salt knows that very few people live on the mountain except Grinch, whose made his home right at the very top. The stranger makes a strange noise, almost like he's choking, and then he says, "Maybe you should go visit him, if you're that close."

"Oh, no, I don't think he would appreciate that," she says quietly. "I wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable."

But the man is insistent. "It is the season. You could always go up there, in your costume."

Martha scoffs. "And what? Ask him if he wants some cake?"

He considers the offending item. "Maybe don't do that."

"Well, wait. There's nothing wrong with this cake. I picked it out myself."

"And if he just doesn't like cake?"

She deflates. Grinch would rather eat the plastic container over sugary frosting. "I don't know."

The stranger rubs his hands together for a second, the leather gloves going past his sleeves. "I'm just saying, think about it. He'll move anything off his schedule for you."

"Oh?"

He says the next part very slowly, as if he's a kindergarten teacher explaining how to count. "Who can resist the power of a witch?"

Martha blushes. "I'm guessing not you."

"No," he says lowly. "Definitely not me." But then he steps back, the spell broken. "Enjoy your night."

"Thanks," she says, and he turns to leave, and Martha wonders why he seems to be going back where he came from. Just ten minutes later, she's back to her apartment, and she puts the cake in the fridge. It'll make the perfect breakfast meal with some of her fancier coffee.

* * *

When she wakes up the next day, she cuts herself a slice and looks out her window at the actual mountain. As always, it looms over the town, and she considers it quietly. Perhaps that masked man was right. Maybe Grinch would give her the time of day, even if it only lasted a few minutes. She doesn't know the exact position of his home, but she knows it's relatively towards the summit. How long does that even take? A few hours?

She gets dressed and laces up her boots before she talks herself out of it. Martha's never climbed Crumpit, but she will today. It takes her a while to even reach the start of the trail, but then she's fully committed. There's no going back now.

What if he doesn't answer that door? How does she admit that to anyone, back down there? The people who pushed him away and made her lose her first true friend?

The wind bites at her cheeks from time to time, but she just tugs her scarves tighter, a determined spirit having already taken over her.

At one point, she thinks she's found his home, but what from a distance looks like a door is just scrap metal. Martha considers it for a minute and decides that it must be from Grinch himself.

Even without an obvious purpose, she can see the detail in its shape, and she's reminded of her precious, little jeweled angel.

Then, very soon after finding the scrap, she finds the proper entrance to his home. She would laugh at the "buzz off" mat in front his door if it didn't make her so sad.

Martha exhales; then, she knocks as loud as she can.

What feels like a few minutes pass, and she sighs. As she turns to go, though, the door opens, and she jolts, raising a hand to her chest.

The two of them just stare at each other, and she feels like a stranger. He's so much taller now, and looking at his face makes her heart heavy. "I'm sorry," she blurts out, and he leans back in the doorway.

"For what?" He asks slowly, puzzled.

She blinks. "I, well," she breathes and tries again. "I know you weren't expecting me."

He looks off to his side, dragging a foot across his (not) welcome mat. Eventually, he says, "And if I wasn't? Who cares?"

Martha doesn't even know how to answer that one. "I guess it just wasn't very polite of me. I wouldn't want to intrude... It's been so long, I-"

"It has." He's back to looking at her now, and she can see his eyes flash with emotion.

"I've missed you," she confesses quietly. "Would you mind if I came in?"

He flushes, and she can see his panic as he glances back behind him into his home, but he opens the door wide for her anyway. "I don't have anything for visitors. Most people who come up here just want to see a glimpse before they go back down."

Martha shakily laughs. "I'm not most people."

He doesn't say anything to that one, and he leads her inside with a soft hand upon her back. It's cold, bare, but undeniably Grinchy inside. There are contraptions and parts everywhere, except for the bed which sits off to the side.

"You've always been so good with your hands," she muses, but he simply stutters and moves forward to rest against the wall.

"Well, this is it. Casa de Grinch, right before your eyes." He clears his throat. "Halloween, huh?"

She smiles. "I was a witch."

"A classic," he says, his eyes darkening. "Did you bewitch anyone?"

Martha pauses. "Actually, maybe someone, but all he really did was remind me of you."

The atmosphere changes ever so slightly as he leans forward, and she blushes. It sounds strange when she puts it like that.

"How?"

"We just ended up talking about Mount Crumpit, and, you know," she gestures around them helplessly. "I think of you when I see it."

He coughs, and she lets her gaze drop to the floor, but he speaks before she's fully taken over by embarrassment. "I have lived here a long time."

"Too long."

He scoffs. "You could have come up at any time."

"Does that offer still stand?" And with that, she lets herself look back at him, scared but pleased that his eyes meet hers.

He doesn't say anything, but he moves forward, and she bites her lip as his smell surrounds her. "Yes," he rumbles. "But only you. I don't want to see any other whos."

"That's good because I won't bring them."

The Grinch nods, but then his alarm rings, and the two of them jump away from each other. "That's just a reminder for me to-" He growls. "Just stay here."

She watches him stroll off to reset the alarm, and he rubs at his face as he considers the state of his lair. "I really am busy today, though," He whines. "I would hate to cut this short, but-"

"That's okay," She says, meaning it. "I've had a lovely visit." He looks at her, but she can't meet his eyes, letting them rest instead on the hair that peeks out at his chest. "I can see myself out."

"Alright." But he walks her out anyway, and when they part on his front step, he says, "I mean it. You can come back."

Martha smiles, and she presses a light kiss on his cheek as his eyes go wide. "Bye, Grinch." And with that, she starts her descent, her lips distractingly warm in the cold. She doesn't dare look back at him.

"Bye," And a few seconds after that, there is the distinct sound of his door closing, and it rings in her ears the whole way down.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a barely detailed idea of what I wanted this to be. It very much ended up as something else.


End file.
